


Mixed Emotions

by redmasque



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Alcohol Abuse, Beer, Confusion, Destiel - Freeform, Dorks, Drinking, First Kiss, Guessing game, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, actual teenage girls Dean and Cas, fluff so much painful fluff oh gosh I'm so not sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-01
Updated: 2014-06-01
Packaged: 2018-01-27 20:49:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1722095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redmasque/pseuds/redmasque
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel's got something troubling him, and Dean notices it after the troubled angel downs a few too many beers in front of him.</p>
<p>Basically, pre-Mark-of-Cain!Dean plays the guessing game with post-Grace-stealing!Castiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mixed Emotions

**Author's Note:**

> Contemplated calling this fic "It's A Little Bit Funny (This Feeling Inside)".
> 
> Then "Mixed Emotions" as sung by Rosemary Clooney came onto my Spotify shuffle, so I changed my mind.
> 
> Enjoy these dorks.

            I haven’t ever felt like this, I don’t think. Not with Lisa, Cassie, or any of the other women (or men) I’ve met while on jobs, while taking time off, or while doing _anything_ at all. Sure, I’d exchanged sidelong glances with them and I’d even get that fluttery, cliché, romance movie feeling in my gut, but none of it was ever like this. Not really.

            If I told Cas how nice he looked by the dim desk light in the Men of Letters library, I don’t think that he would really get why I said it. If I stared at him a little longer than what’s considered totally casual, I don’t think he’d notice. Cas was—is—so easy to stare at; even though his body wasn’t his initially, he’d certainly picked well in the end. His eyes were blue like the sky, ranging from stormy, clouded blue-gray to bright, clear early-morning aqua. The facial hair on him was never totally gone, stuck in this perpetually scratchy texture that accented the angles and shadows of the lower part of his face. His hair was rarely groomed, always feathery and sticking up here and there like he’d just faced gale-force winds outside before seeking shelter.

            Castiel’s facial expressions were his, though. The squint, the head-tilt, the slight parting of his lips, the hard lines formed by frequent apologies and questions and reluctant answers…they were all genuinely _Cas_. His voice was his own, too. All of the gravel and deep tones he emitted were unique and purely _Castiel_ ; the angel of the Lord, good little soldier, son who tried too hard, though he consistently screwed up, public enemy number 2 (after Lucifer, of course) in heaven, victim and defendant…all of it was forced through that voice and his strained expressions in this physical form. He loved humans enough to douse his older sibling in holy fire, buying Sam and me some time to try and save them all. He loves humans enough to repeatedly sacrifice himself for their prosperity and for order in heaven. He loves us enough to fall.

            All of it adds up to make Cas. If I told him he was beautiful in the warm, yellow-orange light of the library, holding a beer in his hand, creases in his brow placed there by fierce concentration…if I told him that, he wouldn’t understand why. He’d think something was wrong. Those creases would deepen and his voice would level out as he asked me what was wrong.

            Castiel was an angel, though. Angels and humans didn’t _feel_ this way about each other. It just wasn’t right. I had told him that he was like a brother to me. I’d told him I _needed_ him. I wanted to tell him I _loved_ him, but the words gagged me as they tried to surface. I just couldn’t say it. He wasn’t like a brother, necessarily, but he had said it in his own words: we share a more profound bond. Maybe it was because of that handprint on my arm. Maybe it’s because he pulled me outta hell all in one go, then reconstructed me from scratch. Maybe that’s how it started, at least. There was no denying that I felt something strong for Cas, and knowing what caused it all didn’t really matter in the end. He was a giant, androgynous entity with feathery-looking wings and a tarnished halo. He was blindingly beautiful, beautifully powerful, and powerfully courageous. How could _he_ feel the way some human hunter/Man of Letters/bastard felt about him?

            I stopped dwelling and took a drink of my beer, which had been warming in my hand for a few minutes. It stung as it slipped down my throat and irritated my taste buds. Beer was shit, truth be told, but it did its job. I glanced over to look at Cas. His bottle was empty and his eyes were glazed over as he stared off into space, a contemplative look hiding under the blank stare.

            “How many of those’ve you had already?” I asked, drawing him out of his thoughts.

            “I believe…that this is my fifth.” He looked unsure. I hadn’t seen him drunk too many times, but I knew enough to recognize when Cas was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol in him. He blinked slowly and shrugged, toying with the neck of the bottle by drawing his index finger around the rim of the opening distractedly.

            “Might wanna slow down, there,” I laughed back at him. He threw me a bitchface worthy of Sammy, and I laughed again. A smile crept across his face and he rolled his eyes at me.

            “It is slower for it to take effect on me, Dean. I hardly feel anything even now.”

            “It’s already getting you to relax, Cas. It’s taking effect.”

            Castiel shrugged his shoulders slightly and stared at his empty glass bottle as he tried spinning it around while it was tipped on its edge. He fumbled and quickly caught it, then gently set it down on its side like he was planning to play spin-the-bottle.

            “I thought you wanted me to relax,” Cas mumbled.

            “Yeah, but I don’t want you to regret it later when you start coming down off of it.”

            “I may not have the same reaction as you, Dean. I am not human anymore.”

            “Well, I want you to take it easy, anyway.” I looked over at him, then. Forced deadpan, shoulders too relaxed, left leg bouncing gently on the ball of his foot, hand that wasn’t fiddling with his bottle unnaturally still…I knew his body language well enough to recognize that he was drinking so much over something pretty important to him; his mind had to be racing, and I knew better than anything else, in that moment, that he just wanted something to distract him. I wasn’t about to let him use alcohol and me for that purpose, though.

            “You wanna talk about it?” I asked. “Whatever’s bothering you, I mean.”

            “I am…not sure,” Cas replied. “Everything is on my mind, to be honest. It is nothing that you don’t already know.” His eyes flicked around the table, avoiding my gaze. _Lying_.

            “I mean, I’m not gonna make you talk to me about anything,” I said. “It’s just that you look like you could use a good chat.”

            Cas wiggled his fingers on his left hand, staring at them thoughtfully. His brow furrowed slightly before smoothing back out. A frustrated, quiet sigh escaped his lips, and his head dropped slightly.

            “Dean…I don’t…I can’t explain it.”

            There was defeat in Cas’ voice as he swallowed his words towards the end of his sentence. Instead of saying more, he reached towards the unopened six pack of beer between us and snatched a new bottle before I could object. He easily popped the cap off and took a quick sip, twisting his face up like he’d accidentally eaten a slice of a lime instead.

            “Molecules,” the angel mumbled. I raised my eyebrow and opened my mouth to ask what he meant, but he waved his hand at me dismissively.

            “I’m just…not…I’m at a loss.” Cas coaxed the vague phrase out of himself, visibly frustrated.

            “At a loss?” I asked, trying to sound gentle. “For anything in particular?”

            “Most things, really,” he answered bluntly with an odd sort of cynicism leaking out between each word. That was unusual, to say the least. That’s not how Cas talked…not now, at least. He wasn’t supposed to sound so frustrated and bitter and—

            I had a sort of flashback, then—it was more like a flash-forward, actually. Cas suddenly had more scruff on his face, more dirt on his skin, more worn-looking clothes, and was popping pills into his mouth instead of nursing a beer. He smiled drunkenly and bitterly down at his hand on the table—the hand that I’d mentioned was too still, earlier—before allowing a rough laugh to choke out of him. It was suddenly a very different 2014 with a very different Cas. I shuddered and snapped myself out of it.

            He still had the same facial expression. _No_ , I thought. _That is_ not _happening_. _That is_ never _happening._

            “Cas, man, you gotta talk to me about something. Just try to, okay?”

            He took a larger swig of his drink and coughed after downing it. I could see as the numb sensation filled his head in a rush—the way his eyes widened momentarily and his pupils dilated ever so slightly. He nodded his head, though, and set the bottle down on the table in front of him.

            “I am not familiar with most emotions in excess,” he began. “I was merely pondering on one in particular.”

            “Which one is it?” I asked, leaning back in my chair, the stained wooden back digging into my shoulders as I did so.

            “I am not certain that I know exactly which.”

            “Is it good?”

            He cast me a questioning look and tipped his head in that (totally not adorable, I reminded myself) way that only he can in response to my question.

            “I mean, do you like feeling this mysterious emotion?” I clarified.

            “I think so,” he replied. “I feel almost embarrassed by it, though…How can I be embarrassed by something I don’t even recognize?”

            I hummed in acknowledgement and thought over the concept. Somehow, Cas was still feeling a human emotion even after getting his mojo back, and it shouldn’t really have been something I was comfortable with. Talking this over with the guy felt more important than fretting over my own feelings, for the time being. I realized that I was staring as soon as he turned his head to face one, accidentally making eye contact. His eyes were more of a cobalt color, in the lightning of the cavernous-feeling room. I forced myself to look away, almost regretfully.

            “Are there any sensations or instinctual urges or anything that come with it?” I asked, trying to focus again.

            “Yes…” Cas looked to his drink, avoiding looking at me again.

            “Any particular ones?”

            “Like something is simultaneously melting and fluttering in my stomach and gut. It is not bad, necessarily, or at least I don’t think so.”

            I knew _that_ emotion.

            “Like butterflies in your stomach?” I asked.

            “Yes. Almost.” Cas frowned worriedly and asked, “That’s not what’s happening to me, is it? Human biology is not exactly a mystery to me, and I don’t recall that being possible.” I laughed at him and shook my head.

            “Good,” the angel mumbled, sipping his drink again. “I do not want flying insects in my body.”

            “Not real butterflies,” I said. “It just feels like they’re there, right?” Cas nodded. I asked, “Do you feel it when you’re around anything or anyone in particular?

            He opened his mouth and took in a sharp breath, ready to say something, but suddenly seemed to decide not to. He closed his mouth and pressed it into a firm line. A small nod was all I got in response.

            “Wanna tell me what or who?”

            Cas shrugged and said, “It depends on what it means.”

            I hesitated. Should I tell him? I was going to have to, at some point, and I couldn’t stand seeing the guy so uncomfortable as he directed the attention of those cobalt eyes confusedly at the neck of the glass bottle in front of him. Better sooner than later, right?

            “I think it’s attraction, Cas,” I stated, causing him to whip his head up to look me in the eye.

            “You mean…” He looked back to his hands as they wrapped around his drink.

            “Like romance or passion or something.” I cleared my throat nervously and after a pause, I looked at Cas with as much confidence as I could muster and said, “Love, Cas. It’s love. Or something like it, at least.”

            “Oh,” he replied simply. He became much quieter about it, then. He actually just kind of shut up altogether, and he got that deadpan-but-calculating look on his face to match his suddenly stiff shoulders and tightly knit eyebrows. I let him stay like that for about a minute to give him some time to think before looking over at him again. Had I fucked up? I’d thought that knowing what the feeling was would have relaxed him, but it just seemed to confuse the poor guy even more.

            “Cas?” I asked. He didn’t move. I tried again: “Hey, Earth to Cas.”

            He looked up enough to meet my eyes in a sheepish stare.

            “Something wrong?”

            “Possibly…I don’t know…” There was a lost look in his eyes, it was like the way he’d blankly stared at me when I first met him, back when he was worried and conflicted, ready to rebel from heaven, but not sure how to start. I wanted to help, but he would have to talk to me first.

            “What’s up, then, huh?” I leaned towards him, my left elbow leaned on the table and my right rested on my knee. I asked, “Whatcha thinkin’?”

            “I should not feel such an emotion in this way, I don’t believe,” Cas started, his words slow and precise. “Angels aren’t intended to, in any case. Romance is something made for creatures of Earth, not those of Heaven.”

            “Cas, you’ve been human for the past several months. I think you’re allowed to feel something as instinctual as love.”

            “I am no longer human, Dean,” Cas insisted. “I should not feel this way anymore, even if I should have at one point previously.”

            I sighed and shook my head.

            “Why do you want to resist it?” I asked him. “Love’s not a bad thing!”

            “Is it a good thing when you don’t know if someone loves you back?” The question seemed to rush out of him before he could stop it. Castiel pursed his lips as if he was forcibly silencing himself. I watched as he looked away from me and back to his hands as they tapped the sides of his glass bottle.

            “It’s…” I started, trying—and failing—to get rid of the surprise in my voice. “It’s not a good feeling, no. I see how that could be a bit rough.” I sighed and watched Cas just sit and fidget as he thought. No wonder the poor guy was confused.

            “…Do I know the person?” I asked hesitantly. Cas nodded and took a drink; his beer only had about a third of the original amount left in it. Cas and I didn’t have too many common connections, these days. My mind began to wonder as I tried to come up with someone I had seen him staring at more than the usual Cas-stares-too-much amount of time or someone he’d smiled at with more emotion than one might expect from an angel of the Lord. Could it be…I shook my head slightly in an attempt to clear it. _Focus, Winchester._

            “Are you just worried about talking to them about it? ‘Cause I can ask them for you, if you’d like me to,” I offered. A bitter huff of a laugh escaped the angel in front of me, and a frown threatened to sneak over my face. I resisted reacting outwardly, though. Cas wasn’t like this. He wasn’t bitter or self-conscious. Not _this_ Cas.

            “I don’t have to tell them you told me, even,” I said. “I could just say I noticed a few things here and there and was just wondering or something.”

            “No, but thank you, Dean,” he said, his words becoming slurred ever so slightly. “I can’t have you do that. I appreciate the offer, however.”

            “You can’t or you won’t?”

            “Can’t.” An unrestrained frown spread across my face, then. Why couldn’t he tell me? I would’ve been able to handle basically anything he threw at me, and he should have known that. Sure, internally, I would’ve been a bit disappointed to have to hold off my internal monologues praising the dorky little fallen angel (which happened more and more, these days) a bit more often than I wanted to, but if whoever it was made him happy, I wouldn’t have cared; I figured that if Cas was happy, then so was I. What’re friends for, eh?

            “Well,” I said carefully, “if you change your mind at any time, I’d be more than happy to talk about it with you. You know that, right?”

            “Of course.” Cas sighed heavily and drank lazily from his bottle.

            “I really think you should do something about it, if it’s bugging you enough to want to drink with me like this.” All I got in response was a small noise of acknowledgement from the back of his throat and a non-committal shrug. I moved my chair closer to his, hoping to at least get him to look at me as I ducked my head down to look up at his eyes and downcast face. He refused to look away from his hands, however.

            “Hey,” I said, my voice softer than I had expected it to be. His eyes, now blue like an almost-overcast sky, glanced over at me, finally. It looked like there was a substantial amount of shame in his expression.

            “I wouldn’t be upset with you, no matter who it is. You can always tell me anything. But let me tell you that drinking your problems away ain’t gonna help anything at the end of the day.”

            Cas laughed in a clipped huff of breath.

            “You should learn to take your own advice, Dean.”

            “No, no, no. This isn’t about me, Cas, this is about you.”

            “You sound so sure.” A short beat of silence fell as I tried to shape my thoughts into words properly.

            “Cas, what’re you trying to get at?”

            “Nothing, Dean,” he mumbled. “I’m not getting at anything.”

            “I’m tellin’ you, it ain’t healthy. I have first-hand experience, Cas. Talking about stuff like this is tough, I get it, but it’s always easier to talk about it than it is to deal with a hangover in the morning.”

            “Didn’t I tell you that I _can’t_ tell you?” He was suddenly sharp with his words; his jaw snapped shut and the muscles in his neck tensed. I frowned.

            “Sorry,” I said, leaning back in my chair again. Castiel took a deep breath in and released it slowly in an attempt to calm himself down. His shoulders sagged slightly, and his neck and jaw relaxed again.

            “No, I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I want to explain it to you, but I…it feels more complicated than that. It is unfair to you, I know.”

            “Do you want my advice?”

            “Yes. That would be nice.” It was something of a victory, at least. I leaned forward again, trying to catch his eye. He complied, this time, and stared back. _Good_ , I thought.

            “What do you want to do about this person, then?” I started. “Do you want them to know? Do you want to try to get them to like you back?”

            “Eventually, both,” he explained, dragging his words out as he thought over them. “It will be very difficult, though.”

            “It’s probably not nearly as bad as you think it is.”

            “I would like to believe that.”

            I tried really damn hard to not let my pity leak onto my face, but it probably didn’t work out too well. Cas broke eye contact for a moment to take another drink from his beer.

            “You already really close to them?” I asked.

            Castiel nodded.

            “Well, you can ask them out on a date, maybe. Go see a movie, eat at a restaurant, get a drink at a bar, all of that stuff.”

            He seemed to contemplate this for a moment before nodding his head slowly.

            “Yes, that…that makes sense.”

            This was an unreadable response, though, and I found that I couldn’t take my eyes off of him. He was clearly more than just a bit buzzed by this point, and his little not-frown was just almost _adorable_ on his face—

            I did _not_ just call Cas adorable. Damnit, I really was digging myself into a deep hole in the ground with this. As much as I wanted the poor guy to be happy, I didn’t want to lose him or my own selfish desires in the process, either. I liked him too much, and I couldn’t even bear to keep in mind the possibility that this mystery person could be me. Cas could like me and I’d have no idea. That hope would _crush_ me over time if I did nothing about it. I’d rather just eliminate any possibility ahead of time.

            “If I ask questions and guess who it is, will you tell me yes or no?” I finally asked. “I can see it’s bothering you, man. I can help out more if I know who it is.”

            “I will have to think about that,” Cas replied.

            Well, that was better than earlier, at least. Cas downed the last of his drink and slid the bottle from the edge of the table over to the middle where it clinked to a halt against one of the short lamps. He sighed and shifted his eyes between the empty bottles and the room temperature six-pack to my left. As he lazily reached for the unopened bottles, I swatted his hand quickly out of the way. He gave me a hurt look with puppy dog eyes that could easily compete with Sam’s, even when they were glazed with drunkenness.

            “Cas, you’ve had enough.”

            He looked away and back to the edge of the table where his swatted hand lay. He ran the pad of his thumb along the sharp-ish wooden edge idly.

            “So, a movie,” Cas slurred, “or a drink or something. That’s not unusual, though. I always do this stuff around…around this person.”

            “Okay, then…is it usually just the two of you?”

            “Sometimes.”

            I thought over the possibilities for a moment.

            “…It’s not…it’s not Sam, is it?” _God, that’d crush me_.

            “No,” Cas replied incredulously. “No, not Sam.”

            “Oh, okay.” I held back a sigh of relief. “Well, do you feel comfortable with, like, making a move or something? You could, like, sit really close so that your sides are touching or lean your head on their shoulder or something.”

            “Those things happen frequently as it is.”

            “You wanna kiss them or profess your undying love or something, then?” I said it as a joke, but Cas looked like he was actually considering the suggestion. His big, sky-blue eyes squinted as the gears churned in his head.

            “Do you want to make that kind of move, Cas?” I asked, seriously this time.

            “Would that be…all right?” Cas asked. “A…kiss?”

            “You feel like you want to?”

            “M-maybe.” A red flush rose up on his cheekbones and over his ears. I smiled at him. I couldn’t help it. The guy looked so happy and flustered like a preteen with a crush so big it hurt my heart just to look at him. I patted his shoulder and he looked up to meet my gaze once again.

            “Cas, all you have to do is wait for a good moment. Don’t think about it all that much and don’t plan it out. Wait ‘til you’re both comfortable and happy and relaxed; wait for the urge to overcome you and, if you think they’re not going to be embarrassed, or if no one else is around, go for it. The time’s just gotta be good, and, if you can’t be spontaneous about it, just ask if they’d be okay with it before diving right in.”

            “Ask?”

            “Yeah, just ask. They can always say ‘no’, but that’s okay, too. It’s not a total rejection, if so, but more of a ‘not right now’, if that makes sense.”

            Castiel frowned, mulling over the idea in his head slowly. After a few long seconds, he nodded his head.

            “That sounds okay, I guess,” he finally stated. “I can do that.”

            “Now, ain’t you just a good ol’ Romeo,” I said, a smile breaking out over my face. I patted his shoulder, letting it linger for a moment before realizing what I was doing and dropping it again.

            “Romeo was a disrespectful, sophomoric, fictional character who killed himself over a love that was only a few weeks old. That’s  hardly what one would call _good_.”

            I laughed.

            “It’s just a figure of speech, man.”

            “Well, it’s a dumb one,” Cas mumbled.

            “Glad I can help some, anyway. I wish you the best.”

            “May I have another beer?”

            “Nonono,” I replied, smiling great big back at him. “You’ve still had enough.” Cas sighed in defeat and leaned back in his seat. There was a beat of silence as I grabbed my drink and took a sip. The taste was starting to be distracting and the nausea it brought was suddenly not so ignorable. _I can do with not getting drunk, tonight_ , I thought to myself, and I sat the bottle back down on the table. Cas laughed quietly, looking at my face with a drunken haze glazing his eyes still.

            “What?” I asked.

            “Your facial expression is very amusing. That is all.”

            I rolled my eyes at him. A smile inched its way onto my face, and I shook my head. Cas hiccupped once. We both burst into the most unmanly giggling fit ever, like a couple of kids gossiping at a sleepover.

            “All right, man. Anymore questions for me?”

            Castiel centered himself as best as he could and cleared his throat before replying.

            “Do you have romantic interest in anyone?” he asked. I raised an eyebrow at him.

            “Why do you ask?”

            “I’ve told you that I do,” Cas elaborated, “so I assumed that asking you about yourself would make sense as well.”

            I nodded and said, “Yeah, I think I like someone. It’s kinda iffy, though.”

            “Iffy?” he questioned.

            “Complicated,” I said for clarification. “I don’t know what exactly I feel for them, but I’m hoping to figure it out eventually.”

            Cas hummed and nodded his head. He squinted and stared at the edge of the table, which he was still rubbing his thumb against. His lower lip was pulled slightly into his mouth as he bit lightly and absent-mindedly at the skin there.

            “Do I know them?”

            I laughed.

            “Yeah,” I replied, “you do.”

            “Do you mind if I ask who?”

            “You can ask,” I said as I leaned back in my seat and smiled lazily. “I can’t guarantee you an answer, though.”

            “Who, then?”

            _You_ , I thought. I held my tongue, though, and gave him a shrug instead. The look on his face said, _oh, come on_.

            “I don’t know if I’m gonna say.”

            Cas made a discontented noise and mumbled, “Hypocrite.”

            “Do unto others, man,” I stated simply. The angel rolled his eyes. He got so damn human when he was drunk, I realized. It was nice, really…maybe I could get him to loosen up like this sober, too, if I tried hard enough. Maybe then I’d be able to tell him…ask him if he…no. No, _that_ was where I was the hypocrite, not where he said I was. I couldn’t take my own advice; Cas was right.

            I leaned forward again, into the guy’s space, and patted his shoulder, more heartily this time.

            “You’re gonna be all right, Cas. Don’t hesitate to ask me about anything.”

            Cas nodded. His breath hitched as he opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. After a moment’s hesitation, he closed his jaw tightly, relaxed, and tried again.

            “I…” was all that he could utter before, frustrated, he shut his mouth again.

            “Yeah?” I asked, urging him to continue. He huffed out a breath and frowned in concentration.

            “I have an odd question,” Cas stated slowly and steadily, choosing his words carefully, “and you may answer it however you want to. I’m not expecting anything in particular.”

            “Sure, Cas. I just said you could ask me anything.”

            His eyes met mine and I could suddenly see all of the anticipation he was feeling. An internal argument was sending him into a silent, mental whiplash, and the both of us into silence. Cas blinked and sighed.

            “Would it be okay if…if I kissed you?”

            A moment of silence passed over us as I tried to remember how to speak again. My mind was screaming, _yes, it’s okay! It’s more than okay!_ My mouth opened and I forced out the only words I could form.

            “So it’s me?”

            Cas clamped his mouth shut and nodded slightly.

            “Now,” he said quietly, words much less slurred than before, “you have to tell me who you are…” He cleared his throat and a light blush crept up to the tips of his ears.

            “Yes.”

            “Yes,” he repeated. “So, who—”

            “No, I mean _yes_. To your first question.”

            A buzzed, numbing feeling filled my chest and reached all the way up to my jaw and down to my fingertips. Cas looked from my eyes, to my lips, and back up again before leaning in to close the already small gap between the two of us. My breath froze as I felt a sort of electric sensation in the air, and Cas’ lips were on mine. We were still and soft for a moment. When Cas moved slightly, I decided to let him do what he wanted and just go with whatever happened. He pressed closer and exhaled ever so slightly into the kiss. My chest and gut felt like they were being lit up from the inside.

            Cas’ lips weren’t how I’d imagined they would be. They weren’t perfectly full and soft, but chapped slightly and bitten at. A light amount of stubble itched against my own. It wasn’t drunken or sloppy, though; it had been ages since I last felt this much passion in such a light kiss. Nothing about it was hurried or desperate, just sweet and meaningful. Cas tasted like only flesh can, but with a hint of alcohol lingering on his lips. I smiled a bit as his mouth closed around my bottom lip and the tip of his tongue swiped out to meet mine.

            He leaned away, then, and I couldn’t resist leaning forward to steal a quick peck. We each breathed shallowly for a beat before I opened my eyes again. Cas had opened his at the same time and we stared. I stared, at least. Castiel’s eyes roamed over my face as mine remained still and transfixed on his beautiful, dark irises. His pupils were blown wide and his eyes were, now, a rich, royal blue and cobalt. There was a smile of satisfaction that was in them, though it didn’t start at his mouth like mine did.

            “What color are your eyes, Dean?” the angel asked as he squinted back at me.

            “Hazel, Cas,” I replied, my voice quiet and low.

            “That is…green and brown, yes?”

            “Yeah, it is.”

            “I apologize for having to ask,” he slurred. The slurring was definitely not all from the beer he’d downed just minutes ago.

            “Why did you ask?” I wondered aloud.

            “I see your soul more than your physical form, Dean,” Cas stated. _Man_ , I wanted to hear him say my name like that again. His voice was still just as rough as always. The baritone words leaving his vessel soothed my nerves and excited them at the same time.

            “I saw them,” he continued. “Your eyes, I mean. I saw them when I was human, and they were so…so unusual, I remember. So intricate and complex. Angels see so many colors on so many plains that naming them becomes pointless, eventually. I couldn’t recall the names of those in your eyes, but I knew I was familiar with them.”

            I grinned slyly.

            “I didn’t know you could be so poetic, Cas.”

            His smile stretched across his entire face. He glanced away from me in what I could only call a bashful gesture. Could angels even be bashful?

            “Truthfully,” I said, “your eyes are pretty easy to look at, too. Like little, blue kaleidoscopes.” The angel met my gaze again with his wide, otherworldly eyes, and we just sat there watching each other for who knows how long.

            “You, Cas,” I said, after a long moment. “It’s you. It’s been you for so long now.”

            He breathed out a short laugh and blinked slowly. His lips were rolled in and clamped between his teeth like he was trying to hold back a grin. A light, fleshy red colored the sides of his face. He looked so damn _happy_.

            “I suppose we have both learned something useful, this evening,” Cas mumbled.

            “Yeah,” I agreed, “yeah, I think we have.”

            More silence filled the air. I don’t think I’d ever been so comfortable with so little noise before then. Cas and I were still a few measly inches apart and we couldn’t take out eyes off of each other. I felt free and calm and, hell, if that didn’t feel great, I didn’t know what could.

            “Dean?” Cas asked after a moment.

            “Hm?”

            “I lied, earlier. I have one more question.”

            “Ask away, Cas.”

            “May I kiss you again?”

**Author's Note:**

> Eternal thanks to Sarah, my beta and good friend. Thanks for letting me steal your quote about beer so that Dean could have something to say at the beginning. And thanks in general 'cause while these two are dorks, I may be even more of one at times, and you put up with that on a day-to-day basis.


End file.
